A/N: I will try to keep all A/N brief in this story, as I find them to be a distraction more often than not.

You know when you read something so good that it has you itching to write, and the more you read and the more inspired you become, the more you want to create? That's what Victoria Aveyard's series did for me. I find her writing (both story and storytelling) absolutely enthralling, and it brought me out of a long hiatus of being only a reader/publishing student and back into the world of creative writing. The novel I've been wanting to write for a couple years was finally back on my to-do list, but since novel-writing is a tedious process, I've opted to write this fanfiction as a sort of kick-off.

All characters and references therein associated with The Red Queen and Glass Sword belong to Victoria Aveyard.

Chapter 1

"We need to go, Mare," Cal whispers into my ear. I know the lightning still crackling over my skin is a painful sting to him, but he leans in anyway. "We cannot stay here."

He is right, of course. Elara's fried corpse lies a dozen feet away, and it's only a matter of time before news of Corros reaches Archeon, and Maven. I have yet to see her dead, but then I haven't moved from this place next to Shade since I collapsed by his body. It feels longer, but only seconds passed from when his eyes locked with mine for the very last time to when I drew lightning from the sky and unleashed it on the smug approaching Elara. She left one thought in my head, the farthest she could get before everything went white. To call it rage would be too soft, too understated. I cooked her alive in her own skin, and I savored it. As hot tears sizzled off my cheeks in the current of electricity, I burned the queen into a grotesque carcass until my body felt empty, void of anything but grief. I don't know who took care of Ptolemus, but whatever death he was given was generous, and I'm momentarily enraged that I could not watch him fry him in his glorified tin can armor. I deeply hope it was Cal who finished the deed. After all, it was Cal who showed Ptolemus mercy in the Bowl of Bones, and that mercy has cost me everything.

I reach my hand a few inches ahead of me until it grabs hold of the needle still emerging from Shade's heart. I vaguely hear Kilorn's whispered croak behind me. "Mare, don't—"

But I've already slid the blade in a nauseating squelch, and with shaky fingers, I close my grasp on it. I scream as l pull the last of the lightning in my body into my hand, and the guttural, sharp sound that passes my lips permeates the silence and draws the attention of the survivors. And though I know this is not something I can destroy on my own, I exhaust myself trying anyway. Again and again, in total vain. My screams match the effort and turn into sobs when I have nothing left. I have nothing.

Just then, Cal takes my hand and laces his fingers between mine, urging me to let the offensive metal drop. He melts it instantly, and my resounding silence has me cold. Shade lies next to me peacefully. The bloodstain over his heart doesn't look nearly as menacing without its maker protruding from it. He might as well be pretending like he's always done to avoid conversation and eavesdrop on our unsuspecting brothers. But I know better, and I catch the thought before it foolishly leaves my throat. Just then, Farley comes barreling for us. I don't see her as I stare at Shade's unassuming, soft expression. I can't even say I hear her as she frantically shouts for answers that I don't have. But when she throws her body over his and obstructs him from my view, Cal lift me into his arms, cradling me in his warm embrace as he walks back toward the Blackrun. Not the Blackrun, I realize offhandedly, but something larger. Cal sets me down in his seat and presses his lips to the top of my head for a brief moment. If I had any feeling left in me right now, I would've shattered at the gesture. He makes his way back toward the ramp to gather the others. We need to leave here, and ever the soldier, Cal must maneuver everyone into place.

"Bring her body," I bite out. Even the screams and sobs cannot deter my resolve. "I want it up here with us, uncovered." A plan starts forming in my head as the internal jumble recedes so the lightning girl can take its place. The emptiness of Shade's death threatens to consume me, so I run from it, to a cold that's become familiar to me. I plan for what we do next, what we show this world I can do, what we show Maven how capable I am of destroying.

Cal looks back with eyes of sadness and pity, for me, and though I can also see a flicker of hesitation, he nods at my directive. As I wait for Cal to get things in motion, my eyes close on their own accord, too weighted by exhaustion to keep me awake.
-

"Nap time already?" The voice is soothing and familiar, playful and light, and utterly wrong. I mumble a vulgar response anyway.

Shade laughs. "Can't stay here forever, Calamity Jane."

One eye pops up at the reference. "What?" Through the grogginess, the overwhelming exhaustion, I have barely registered my brother is standing aside me.

"It's in one of Julian's ancient books. Old World lady was something else. He'll tell you about her one day."

I scoff. I forgot the rescue of Julian means the resurgence of history lessons. I wish I could've seen Shade and Julian bantering together; both have quick wits, though Julian's far better read than Shade was. Shade didn't have the access to literature that Julian does, but Shade would have loved listening to Julian's stories. I bolt upright with wide eyes and my insides lodged in my throat. Shade would not have had any time to talk history lessons with Julian, and as far as I knew, Julian had no books on him in his cell. What is Shade talking about? Why is Shade here? "This is a dream," I realize as both sadness and relief flood me.

Shade just smiles, though the corners of it don't reach high enough to mean anything. He looks…apologetic. "I'm here, Mare."

Fresh tears burn my eyes. How badly I wish that were true. "You're not," I sigh, blinking away the stinging heat pooling at my lashes. "You're…dead," I swallow, "and this is a dream. "And you're right, I can't stay here forever." I shake my head back and forth, willing myself to wake up.

Shade nudges my shoulder with his side. From his vantage point, he looms over me. Strong, steady, if not more aged since I last saw him not more than a half hour ago. "It's not a dream. I'm here, but only you can know this. You mustn't tell the others."

The sound of boots approaching has Shade lean down to meet me eye-level; the sound stops suddenly mid-step. "Mare, listen, do not return to Tuck. The plan you have in your head, you can't go through with it. Go back to Notch. Stay there. I'll come back to you."

"I-" How did he know where I was going? I only barely just considered the idea before Cal walked out.

In an uncharacteristic move, Shade puts his hands on either side of my face and kisses the top of my head. It's warm and affectionate, and it's real as anything I've ever felt. "I've missed you like this," he whispers into my hair.

And then he pops out of sight.
-

The flight back to Notch is silent. Kilorn gives me space, afraid where my head is right now, I think. Cal gives me space for a different reason—he's still angry with me for killing those Silver guards back at Corros. I watch over Elara's body in a way that makes Kilorn uncomfortable. I can tell he'd prefer I cover her, like Farley has covered Shade, but I refuse. As though Elara could open her eyes any minute, I keep watch of her. Cal doesn't seem to care; bodies don't make him squeamish after all he's seen, and he couldn't care less about Elara's dignity.

Midway to Notch, a fight erupts between Farley and I. It takes Cal harshly pulling at me and Kilorn grabbing hold of Farley to separate us, and Cal has to drag me into the cockpit to yell some sense into me. I don't know what to make of seeing Shade earlier, and though he felt as real as the fuming Cal standing defiantly in front of me right now, I force myself into the reality that whatever it was, it wasn't real. A figment of grief, a lucid dream, but not Shade. He's not coming back, he's no longer my steadfast rock, no matter how much I want him here to keep the emptiness from closing in on me.

Cal is a mix between anguished and angry. My previous assumption was correct: he hates me for killing those Silvers who begged for their lives. What about Shade? He didn't even have the chance to beg. And mercy, I spit in my own head, is what led to Shade's death. But I don't tell Cal this; I don't put that burden on him despite his burdening me with guilt and the cold I long to escape. And while Cal is angry with the death of the Silvers, I realize that's the tip of the iceberg. What lies beneath is the resentment toward my unresolved feelings for the blue-eyed boy who kissed me on a boat. I don't have the explanations he wants to hear; I haven't sat with my feelings long enough to understand them. Maybe Cal deserves more, but I owe him nothing. A firestorm who does not know where he belongs or what he wants, who would wish things to be the way they used to be—even at the cost of Reds and newbloods At the cost of me, I think. I want to tell him my plan for Tuck and the media storm I planned on broadcasting, thus solidifying my allegiance with the Scarlet Guard. I want to push back against Cal's accusations by leading us back to Tuck with the upper hand, giving all the rescued a home, even if temporary. I want to revert into Mareena, the cold, calculating, demanding Silver that Lady Blonos trained me to be, but dream Shade's earlier words have me biting my tongue. I cannot revert to the cold persona I use as my only shield against the conflicting emotions swirling in me. In that moment, I understand what Mareena is to me, why I need her as much as I need Mare, and why it is the two of them that make the little lightning queen.

I have nothing left to say to Cal, and if I stay here with a just a few feet separating us, I'm afraid I'll spill everything. Then he'll really think I'm crazy. So I angrily pull my arm from his grasp, wincing in the process, and turn on my heel back Elara's body. I must really look my age right now, petulantly storming off rather than facing things head-on, but he does not follow me and I do not return to him for the remainder of the flight.

I don't know what has me trusting dream-Shade; maybe it's exhaustion, or grief. I look over at his covered body, where Farley hovers and refuses to make eye contact with me. I resist the urge to lift the sheet and make sure he is still under there, reminding myself that I put him under that sheet. I closed his eyes. I pulled the blade from his heart. Whatever my dream of Shade has led me to, I have a strange feeling at the depth of my soul that it is for the best.